


52 Pick up

by MuveMuse



Category: Critical Role (Web Series), UnDeadwood (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Everybody Dies, Gen, I wanted this Happy, My First Fanfic, Other, Sad, Time Loop, everybody lives?, its not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-06
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:28:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24573052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MuveMuse/pseuds/MuveMuse
Summary: Matthew had died a lot.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 13





	52 Pick up

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to afearsomecritter (jsaer). They inspired me to write this.

1

He didn’t know why he bothered counting,

_(Yes he does, 26, 52)_

He lets himself lose count

(Even though he never stops counting, He just limits them now.)

Days, Shots, Friends, Spells, Kills, Deaths.

_(Two, seven, five, four, not enough, too many)_

It leads to madness if he pushes it.

2

He remembers his first death.

_(The others blur together, like the echoes of a gunfight)_

Doc Cockern had griped him by his throat, the others dead already.

_(Silence, the glint of sharp teeth growing closer, black spots dancing in his vision, a hiss of disappointment, hot wet breath. Darkness at last.)_

Aloyuses burned by napalm, missing his through.

_(the absence of screams haunts him.)_

Miriam, tail whipped into the pit.

_(Her screams cut off with a thud.)_

Clayton was bitten by the not-snakes, He fell sizing to the hard packed earth.

_(It hurt, to watch him still and not stand up.)_

And poor Arabelle the worst one yet, blown up by the dynamite she just lit.

_(Even now months, years, later he couldn’t sleep without it creeping up on him.)_

They fade after awhile, repressed by more brutal deaths.

_(He never forgets the first, Theres just worst things in his head now.)_

3

It was surprising, thought Matthew; He never thought he would get used to seeing blood and gore after he fought in the war. It still shocked _him (but only the color such a vibrant red, nothing quite matches it shades,)_ to see his friends die by such brutally means.

_(To die and wake only to die once more)_

Matthew doesn’t mind it no more.

_(It’s just how life is now)_

4

After one bad reset that leaves his hands shaking and the blood rushing in his ears,

_(and the echo of the **Dealers** words rattling in his mind like a snake._

_“You need something to get something, and you’re all out.”_

_Then there was nothing but teeth and a cold, cold emptiness.)_

Matthew wakes up warm on a brisk autumn day.

_(Warm as the Summer Sun)_

5

It takes ten loops and too many Deaths, _(to soon, too early; they don’t deserves those.)_ For Matthew to use Magic again.

_(The **Dealer** takes half.)_

He wakes up in the Bullock Hotel with a hiss of laughter in his head.

_(“For making me wait”)_

6

Matthew had died a lot.

Gunfire, fire, clawed to death by the undead, gunfight, lots of falls _(surprisingly doesn’t take a long fall to kill you, just the right or is it wrong, spot,)_ his own damn shotgun, snake bite, not a snake-snake bite _(that one hurt,)_ trampled by horses, friendly fire _(he forgives it instantly,)_ and on one memorable occasion, drowned _(in his own blood.)_ Just to name a few.

_(But the worst death was Napalm.)_

The kindest, surprisingly was dynamite.

_(Turns out you don’t die fast with liquid fire spreading over your skin.)_

7

Some loops he dreams of blood and screams, others of scales and teeth. They both terrified him.

Now a days _(times, loops?)_ He dreams of the **Dealer**. Often.

_(Matthew always feels less and more, feels cold as death and hot as the sun, and feels nothing and everything in its presents. The pain of the loops doesn’t fully hurt here in this dark place, sometimes this is a comfort, sometimes it feels like a punishment.)_

He knows the **Dealer** is greedy. He thinks that **It’s** impatient too.

_(It calls to him before he wakes sometimes. Watching, Waiting, Shuffling cards endlessly.)_

Sometimes they stay in that darkened place for seconds, hours, days, years, while Matthew cries.

_(When he’s weak and tired and so, so, so very hurt, he thinks this is a kindness.)_

The **Dealer** watches and waits. Then **It** lets him go with a slow riffle of cards.

_(Matthew sees flashes of impossible numbers, a **King** , a **Queen** , a **Joker** , and an **Ace** but no **Jack**. Just a single blank card.)_


End file.
